A Dangerous Boy
by InMyJazzShoes
Summary: After his poor treatment by the Dursleys goes too far, Harry runs off to Hermione's in an effort to escape. Instead of meeting welcoming arms, he sees that her parents hate him, and will do anything to keep this "dangerous boy" away from their daughter.
1. Welcome to Our Dinner Party

**Author's Note: **Hello my doves. Lololol you all hate me. I know I've been MIA for several months now. Lots of things have happened. I finished my most academically brutal school year ever, lost 30 pounds, and prepared to move from the house I grew up in. I'm also working on writing a novel of my own, which consumes much of my time. Amongst all of these things, I ended up pushing writing fan fiction off to the side. I really am sorry. I know that there are several people (or maybe none at this point because I suck) who genuinely like my stories, and I've done a crappy job of thanking you by not putting anything up for months. I do have some extra time this summer (other than my job) so I will work on writing more for you guys. I'm turning 17 next Thursday and I began writing fan fiction after I turned 13. Can you believe it? Time flies.

**Important Info:** This is set post-OotP. Not AU, everything's totally canon up to this point. It's a "summer at the Grangers" fic, but before you crucify me, I'm actually making it a little more interesting. See, Hermione's parents hate Harry. They're not the perfect, cookie cutter people that I read about in a LOT of HHr fics. In fact, I have not read one HHr story where Hermione's parents totally despised Harry. So bitch I'm breaking this cliché and doing my own thing.

**Btw:** I'm working on closing up "The Librarian". Do not fret: it WILL be finished. That's actually the only story of mine that I can read over without puking and thinking, 'why the hell would anyone read this?' I would like to get back in the groove first before I do that, though.

**Btw part II: **Is anyone else seeing the midnight premiere of Deathly Hallows? Giiiiiirl I'm gonna cry so much :'(

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><p><span>A Dangerous Boy<span>

_Chapter One: Welcome to Our Dinner Party_

Harry was done.

He ducked beneath Uncle Vernon's fist again and bounded up the staircase, his uncle's wrath not too far behind him. He rushed into his room and locked the door behind him. He leaned against the door and caught his breath. Uncle Vernon's meaty fists slammed against the other side of the door, and he was screaming so many expletives that Harry learned a few new curse words.

He was done dealing with this, he was done with having to live under this roof any longer.

He ran over to his school trunk and threw everything into it, not caring if anything was going to break. He could hear Uncle Vernon yelling at him as he tried to squeeze his life into that one trunk. Hedwig was hooting madly. He couldn't risk her flying on her own, so he locked up the cage and told her that everything was going to be okay, even if that was a total lie. She must've known that he was lying, because she kept hooting amongst all of the commotion.

Harry could hear Aunt Petunia telling Uncle Vernon that the neighbors would overhear them. Dudley wasn't speaking.

"You bloody brat! You think that you can just do whatever you want, and we've done _everything_ for you! We put a roof over your head, boy!" Uncle Vernon was shouting.

Harry tucked away his school robes and put his wand in his bleeding hand.

Blood was dripping all over the carpet. Not like he cared about the damn carpets. But if he didn't get medical attention soon, the cuts from the shards of glass all over his torso were going to become a big problem. The pain hadn't set in yet — maybe he was just in shock — but he knew that it would set in soon. And that was going to hurt like hell. He wasn't even sure how he would get all of the glass shards out before they began an infection.

He wished he had Hermione here, by his side. She'd know what to do.

He stashed his Invisibility Cloak into his pocket and nervously grabbed the handle of the trunk. He took one sweeping look of the room to make sure he didn't leave anything behind, because he sure as well was not coming back.

With an anxious breath, he unlocked the door and twisted the knob. Uncle Vernon came tumbling through, accidentally giving Harry enough room to sneak past him and dash down the staircase.

"So, you're leaving, are you?" Uncle Vernon shouted.

Harry leapt down the stairs, anxious to leave as quickly as he could. Aunt Petunia was standing in front of the front door.

"What are you doing?" he demanded of her. Hedwig was hooting even more loudly.

"You can't leave," she said hastily.

Harry referred to his bloodied t-shirt and crimson-stained hands.

"You let him do this," he said. "I need to leave."

He shoved her aside and whipped open the front door. He could hear Aunt Petunia screaming back for him to return, and Uncle Vernon was cursing after him. But he was outside, and they weren't dare to do anything where they neighbors could see… as though everyone else hadn't already heard the commotion going on from within the house.

Harry put his Invisibility Cloak on and went to the sidewalk. He lifted his wand hand, not certain if this was safe or not, but he had no other choice.

The Knight Bus came to a screeching halt right in front of him.

His escape.

"You look beautiful."

Hermione let out a gasp of pain when Anne, the Grangers' maid, pulled on the ribbon that tied around her waist.

"Better?" Anne asked when she loosened her grip and tied the ribbon.

"Er, I guess."

Hermione didn't like the idea of having Anne help her with getting ready, but even one glance at the dress before she'd put it on made her realize that this was going to be an interesting obstacle to tackle. Hermione didn't like Anne helping her with anything… it bothered her that her parents hired a maid, especially because of her position in S.P.E.W., but the Grangers gave her a nice pay and she only came in three times a week. She wondered what Harry and Ron would say if they knew that her family hired a maid. Ron would never let her live it down. She could imagine him laughing about it and constantly ridiculing her for it, and calling her a hypocrite. But Harry… Harry wouldn't judge her. He, of all people, knew that families did things you weren't too happy about.

Oh, Harry.

Just thinking about him made that worrying headache come back….

"Hermione, are you alright? You're getting that look on your face again," Anne said in a concerned voice. She began arranging Hermione's hair — which had been attacked with a curling iron moments before — into a loose bun on the back of her head. Putting millions of pins in her hair, she added, "You're not getting another headache, are you? Should I get some more medication for you?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, no, I'm fine," she lied.

Every time that she thought about Harry, she'd get that look on her face, and Anne's solution was to give her pills to make it feel all better again. Hermione couldn't tell her what was really going on, of course: Anne didn't know that Hermione was a witch, and Carl and Jane Granger wanted to keep it that way. They already had their hangups on her situation in the wizarding world, and to inform their maid of just what sort of "boarding school" she went to was completely out of the question.

"Are you sure?" Anne asked, pinning back a few flyaway hairs and keeping two curls framing her face. "I could let your mother know that you're not feeling well, and maybe she'll let you sit this one out —"

"No," she protested. "You've heard her go on about this particular dinner party for ages. If I don't show up, she doesn't have a trophy to show off to her potential clients."

Hermione remembered what her mother had told her at lunch time: "Business hasn't been what it used to be, sweetie, and it would really be great if we could introduce you to these people… and wait until they see that smile of yours! They might want their root canals done right on the spot!"

Anne was silent, continuing to try to tame Hermione's hair. Hermione wondered why her parents, who were just dentists, made a big deal out of this dinner party, as though it were some sort of campaign fundraiser.

"Perfect!" Anne said, putting one more curl into place. She grabbed Hermione's arm. "Now, are you sure that you're okay?"

Hermione nodded. She looked at her reflection and wondered who that girl was, looking back at her. She looked so un-Hermione-like that she could barely recognize herself. But her summers, ever since she turned eleven, were always filled with her pretending to be someone that she was not.

"Let's go, then." Anne grasped her arm and ushered her towards the corridor.

"One second. I'll be right out, I promise," Hermione said.

Anne reluctantly left and shut the door softly behind her.

Quickly, Hermione grabbed her wand from the top drawer of her nightstand. She tucked it into her small clutch that matched her dress, because really, you never knew what was going to happen. Being friends with Harry Potter taught her a few things about always being prepared for the worst.

With one last look at the clutch in her hand, Hermione tried to compose herself as best as she could, and walked out into the corridor.

An obnoxious song was playing and Hermione could hear shrieks of laughter about things that probably weren't funny at all. There was a strong smell of cigar smoke lingering in the air, no doubt coming from the crowds of men that Carl chatted to.

Hermione descended down the staircase, gripping the railing as though it were her lifeline in order to avoid falling flat on her face. She would never understand the logic of wearing high heels. It didn't make any sense. She was already extremely uncomfortable, and she was almost certain that at any moment, she was going to fall over and embarrass herself in front of people she didn't even know.

"Hermione!" Jane shrieked when Hermione reached the bottom step and let out a breath of relief. There was a sea of people and Hermione had trouble pointing out where her mother was. "Come here, sweetheart, I want to introduce you to a few people!"

She didn't feel like Hermione, nor did she look like her, but she obeyed her mother anyway. She put on a fake smile and approached Jane, who was surrounded by a circle of people, all dressed their best. Hermione felt awkward as she tried to break through the circle to reach her mother.

Jane was wearing a black dress and a huge necklace that looked like it was surely weighing down the top half of her body. Her hair had too much volume and her perfume was overwhelming.

"Hermione, dear, this is Mr. Clause," Jane said sweetly, gesturing to a tall man with graying hair.

"Nice to meet you," she said, shaking his hand.

"Oh! And here's Mrs. Nebbeker, she's such a doll…."

Hermione introduced herself to everyone in the circle, and she was already exhausted.

Jane leaned in an whispered, "Is that what I think it is hiding in that clutch?"

Hermione nodded, knowing that Jane was referring to her wand. "You never know."

"Oh please, Hermione, nothing's going to happen. You're being too paranoid. That dangerous boy's made you unable to even go to a dinner party without being scared -"

"Can we please not talk about this now?" Hermione whispered back.

Jane just squeezed her daughter's wrist, which really meant: We'll talk about this _later_, then.

And so it went on for what must have been hours. Hermione plastered a smile onto her face and told everyone about how great she was, and how the weather was wonderful, and yes, school was great, and yes, she gets good grades, and yes, she's attending it again for another year, and no, no boyfriend yet, but studies are more important, right?

As she was pulled towards her father's group of friends, she wondered about Harry. She hoped he was alright. Maybe he was already sleeping, but the nightmares he'd been having probably kept him awake. It seemed silly for her to be squeezed into some tight-fitting dress and uncomfortable heels while Harry was grieving over the loss of his godfather without any loved ones to comfort him.

What the hell was she playing at? She wanted to stop these games for her parents. They were proud of her on an academic level, but when it came to the "ridiculous adventures" with that "dangerous boy", they weren't too happy. She'd endured numerous long talks with her parents which, most recently, consisted of her being ridiculed for running off to the Department of Mysteries and riding creepy invisible horses in order to save a man convicted of mass-murder, all while she was missing lessons.

"Are you alright?" Carl asked Hermione in a whisper when his other friends were busy talking about cars, the Grangers' primped and prepared daughter becoming old news.

Hermione nodded. She couldn't tell her parents that the reason she looked so anxious all the time was because she was worried about Harry. In their opinion, he was "trying to kill you with all of the adventures he's taking you on", and "if he cared about your safety, he wouldn't have bothered to be friends with you". If they knew that she was getting worrying headaches because of him, that would just be the last straw. As far as they were concerned, he was the root of all evil.

"Boys, boys… did I ever tell you that my Hermione has begun to read the books needed for her curriculum for school next year? If that's not commitment, then I don't know what is!" Carl announced, swirling his cigar in his hands and smiling.

Hermione was forced to endure the many questions about her curriculum, thinking on the spot of fake topics that she would learn in her fancy, girls only boarding school.

"Excuse me," she said when she'd had enough. "I need to use the ladies' room."

She squeezed through the smoke-filled room and dashed off into the kitchen, which was located towards the back of the house, away from all of the obnoxious laughter and small talk of the weather going on. She couldn't stand it anymore. She just wanted to be _Hermione_ again... was that such a big deal? She wanted to wipe off all of this ridiculous makeup and put on regular clothing and wear her hair the way it normally was.

Anne was there, in the kitchen, preparing dessert for the guests. She had a stained apron on, and her hair was falling out of her ponytail. She was in her twenties, but the tired look on her face made her look decades older.

"I wondered when you would escape," Anne said nonchalantly. She put a tray into the oven and wiped her forehead. She turned to Hermione and put a hand on her hip, reminding her so much of Hermione herself.

"Oh, it's horrible," Hermione said. She tried to breathe through the fabric of her dress. Perhaps her mother had bought the wrong size, for no girl in the right mind would wear something so skin-tight. "Do you need any help?"

Anne shook her head. "If that dress gets ruined, I'll be murdered."

Hermione sat down at the island in the center of the kitchen. She looked out the windows and saw the last few rays of the sun peaking out from the horizon. They illuminated the Grangers' backyard, which consisted of a wooden patio and a pool. Carl and Jane always wanted Hermione to make friends with a few of the kids her age in the neighborhood and have them come by and hang out by the pool, but the only friends she wanted to spend time with were miles away.

Besides, she was considered as a freak to the kids her age. Before she even knew she was a witch, she was obsessed with books and knowledge, and she was made fun of for it on a daily basis.

"You should get back out there soon, before your mother starts looking for you," Anne said, like she was speaking the part of some sort of script.

"I know," Hermione said. She wanted to take off her shoes because her toes were ready to fall off. "I'm just going to take a walk outside. If my mum asks, tell her I'm in the bathroom."

Anne shrugged her shoulders, her loyalty conflicted. "I advise against it."

"I know." Hermione stood up and walked over to the patio door.

"Be quick."

Smiling, Hermione opened the door and stepped outside. It was beautiful. The weather was perfect. She headed over to the pool and sat down beside it. She would be forced to go back inside eventually, because the sun was escaping too quickly.

Hermione wanted to dive into the pool and stay there forever, remaining away from dinner parties, away from her worries, away from her parents' ridicules. She was too young to handle everything that was going on in her life. She wanted school to start already… and then she could see Harry, and she could see how he was doing. She couldn't stand one more day of enduring this summer.

Right as she was about to take her heels off and dip her feet into the pool, she heard a sound as loud as a gunshot. It rang throughout the neighborhood, and beyond the white fence that surrounded the property, she saw the top of a purple bus. But within a few seconds, it was gone.

Hermione dashed to the side of her house. A quick glance into the family room showed her that nobody at the dinner party appeared to have heard the noise.

That could only mean one thing: someone, or something, from the wizarding world was visiting her house.

Hermione reached into her clutch and grabbed her wand. She held it up with a shaking hand. Someone was approaching her, she could almost feel it, but she couldn't see anyone.

Were Death Eaters taking the Knight Bus now? But no — that wouldn't make any sense. Death Eaters liked to make an entrance. Riding on a sketchy bus wouldn't have the proper effect for them.

Was it someone from the Order? But they would have told her first, no? Or would a letter be too dangerous?

"W-Who's there?" Hermione called out. She thought of the giant list of spells in her head, wondering which one she should use first. Maybe she would Stun first, and then take away their wand.

"It's me," a familiar voice replied from a few feet in front of her.

Hermione's eyes widened. The mysterious visitor took off his Invisibility Cloak and revealed himself.

Hermione nearly dropped her wand.

"_Harry?_"

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I'm still in the process of writing this story. If you have any suggestions, please let me know, I love to hear feedback from you guys. Sometimes you point out things and suggest stuff that I would have never even thought of in a million years. Even though I bet nobody's sticking around because I've been MIA, please know that I'm back on track. I love writing HHr stories, I seriously don't know what I would do without it. If any of you stuck with me, please let me know, it would be really nice to know that I haven't lost everyone :)


	2. Keep Him Safe

**Author's Note:** Thank you for all of the reviews of the first chapter, I certainly wasn't expecting that many :) On a darker note, though, I've been trying to deal with my post-Potter depression by writing this chapter even if it's not really helping me at all. I don't know what to do with my life anymore; that movie was so so good, but since it was the last one, it pretty much Avada Kedavra'ed my entire childhood.

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><p><span>A Dangerous Boy<span>

_Chapter Two: Keep Him Safe_

"I-I'm Harry Potter, one of your best friends. I taught the D.A. last term. You lured Umbridge into the F-Forbidden Forest, making her think Dumbledore had a secret w-weapon, when you really just wanted to show her Grawp. And your Patronus is — " Harry said in pained voice, lifting his bleeding hands in surrender.

"An otter," she finished breathlessly.

It was hard to breathe. Harry stared at her, not knowing how to begin to explain what had just happened to him, why he had run to her when he wasn't wanted anymore. He didn't even want to explain it to himself. He'd used his last bout of energy to prove that it was really him.

There was a short pause where they just stared at each other, and then Hermione's eyes swiveled to his blood-stained t-shirt, and she said, "Harry — oh, goodness, Harry —"

And then she rushed to his side.

She was an angel, sent from Heaven, saving him. Hermione wrapped her arm around his waist and helped him onto her back patio, each step more painful than the last.

"Hermione," he whispered, not knowing what else to say other than her name, as a plea for help.

His deep breaths tickled her throat. The edges of his vision were getting blurry, and the pain from the glass embedded in his skin was starting to become very apparent as the initial shock began to wear off. He winced in pain and she loosened her grip on him.

"Sorry," she said, "I'm so sorry, is this better? I don't want to hurt you."

He could only nod. His blood was staining the pretty dress that she was wearing.

"It's going to be okay," he heard her whisper into his ear. "Don't worry, Harry."

He could hear the worry lacing through her voice. Hermione took his Cloak out of his hand and draped it over him again, making him invisible to the world once more. She reached her hand out to him, and he instinctively grabbed it, his own bleeding hand emerging from beneath the Cloak.

"Trust me," she said softly.

He didn't need to be told.

Harry tried not to scream from the pain that the glass was causing. He'd dealt with the Cruciatus Curse multiple times before, and he wasn't sure which pain was worse at that moment. Hermione's hand was shaking as she led him across the patio, his stumbled footsteps out of tune with her quick ones. He wanted to lean on her and have her whisper reassuring things again; he'd give anything for her to just tell him that it was okay that Uncle Vernon pushed him on a glass coffee table, because she was right there for him, even though nothing was okay.

But she was peering into the kitchen now, and Harry wanted to ask her why she was pausing when he was bleeding all over her patio and glass cut into his skin. His breaths were short and heavy, and he felt like he was going to faint. His mind felt lopsided, and Harry felt very distant from his surroundings, as though reality was slowly leaving him….

Hermione opened the patio door, and, gripping his hand tighter than ever, she guided him into what looked like her kitchen. There was a girl there, probably ten years older than them, who was cooking. She didn't look related to Hermione; Harry wondered if she was a friend.

"Hermione, your mother asked about you," the girl said crossly.

"I'll talk to her later," Hermione said quickly, walking across the kitchen. The hand that was holding onto Harry's was hidden from the other girl's vision.

"She's really upset —"

"I will talk to her later," she repeated, nearing a narrow staircase right off of the kitchen.

"What's behind your back?" the girl asked, but Hermione and Harry turned the corner before Hermione had to answer.

She reached her arm around his waist again, trying to be gentle, and helped him up the stairs. One arm of his held onto her, and the other onto the railing. He felt too lightheaded, and all he wanted to do was lie down until the day he died.

Finally, after what seemed like years, they made it up the steps. Harry allowed himself to let out a few deep breaths as he tried to release some of the tension building up in his mind from the pain he was enduring.

"It's okay, Harry," Hermione whispered to him, her warm breath meeting his ear. "We're almost there…."

Where "there" was, Harry did not know, but he didn't particularly care, either. All he knew was that he would follow Hermione wherever she took him.

"Alright, we're here, okay, Harry?" she said gently, leading him into what looked like her bedroom. He took the Cloak off and she helped him over to her bed, where he lay there on his back, grateful to just rest. Her sheets were scarlet and gold, their house colors. He gripped onto them tightly, trying to channel out some of the pain.

"Thank you," he whispered gratefully.

Hermione rushed around her room, and Harry closed his eyes. He bit his lip, trying to distract him from the pain. He heard shuffling noises and Hermione talking to herself, thinking aloud. He loved when she did that.

Within a minute, he felt the weight on her bed shift as she sat down beside him. He opened his eyes to see her leaning over him, staring at the blood-covered t-shirt he was wearing.

"I'm just going to see the damage, okay?" Hermione said. "I have some Essence of Dittany, and I think it's the best I can do, seeing as I still have the Trace until September. There's nothing much I can do about the pain, except maybe give you an Aspirin," she added, with a look of sympathy.

Harry just nodded.

With his help, Hermione removed his shirt. When she saw the shards of glass, she covered her mouth in horror.

"God, Harry, w-what happened?" she asked.

"It's nothing." He felt ashamed, even though he didn't know why, because nobody should ever feel ashamed for being the victim… but he couldn't help it. It was times like these when Harry became that little embarrassed eleven-year-old boy again.

"Nothing?" she shrieked, slamming the towel beside him, tears furiously pouring out of her eyes. "Harry, just look at you! Look at what they did to you! I can't — I can't even — I want to just go up to them and — and give them a piece of my m-mind —" She whipped her wand out of her clutch again and pointed it at her bedroom door.

Harry gently grabbed her wrist, pulling her back into reality, and her breathing calmed down.

"Sorry," she sniffed, trying to compose herself. "I just — I just really hate it when this stuff h-happens to you, and then you n-never tell me what's really g-going on. Don't you t-trust me?"

He looked away from her, not able to look her in the eye and explain what went under the roof of Number Four, Privet Drive. He'd never told her about the cupboard, or the starvation as punishment, or more recently, the glass coffee table.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I shouldn't have said that. It's not your fault."

Maybe Hermione understood how he was feeling, or maybe she just wanted to focus on helping him, but either way, she was silent as put a few drops of Dittany on his hands, and the bleeding stopped. New skin grew over the wounds and she wiped off the blood with a wet towel. Then she began to extract pieces of glass from his chest with a small pair of tweezers.

Harry yelped with pain and Hermione said, "Sorry… I'll try to be more gentle, okay?"

He nodded. Hermione dropped the glass into a little dish at her night table. She poured Dittany over each wound after glass was removed, and new skin grew in patches. He felt color coming back to his face as he stopped losing blood.

Tears were running down Hermione's eyes as she tried to heal him. She gently dabbed his skin with a fresh towel, soaking up the rest of the blood. He could hear her trying to hold back her sobs. A few curls framed her face as she leaned over his resting form.

"Sorry that I ruined your dress," Harry said, looking down at the pink fabric that hung to her body.

Hermione looked down, and it looked like she had forgotten that she was even wearing a dress. "I didn't like it anyway," she said plainly.

"What's the occasion?"

Hermione looked embarrassed to be dressed so nicely when Harry was in such a horrible state.

"I'd have to explain a lot about my parents before I could even to begin to explain why I look like a pansy," she told him. "So let's not worry about that now."

She pulled out some more glass and poured more Dittany on the open wounds.

"You don't look like a pansy." Harry tugged at one of her curls and let it free, making it bounce.

Hermione gave him a small smile. "Thank you, Harry."

There was a small span of silence that was held between them. Harry wanted to say something, _anything_, but he wasn't sure what words could formulate how he was feeling. He felt hurt, from what his uncle did to him, but he felt comforted, because Hermione was here. She always had that effect on him, somehow.

Hermione wiped sweat off of her forehead with the back of her hand. "God, Harry," she said quietly. She looked away from him, out of her window that gave them a beautiful view of the night sky. Harry closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath. A soft night breeze enveloped them. Harry wanted to stay here, away from the Dursleys, forever.

"C-Can I stay here for a little bit?" Harry asked childishly, when her silence was making him nervous. He opened his eyes again to see Hermione looking back at him with a look of deep sympathy.

She hesitated, and then said, "Of course you can. You can stay for as long as you'd like."

Hermione retrieved another wet towel and an Aspirin from her bathroom and returned to him, giving him the small pill and patting his face. He leaned into the towel and sighed.

"I'm sorry that this happened to you." She continued to pat his skin with the towel and he didn't want her to stop. "You don't have to go back there ever again, okay?"

He nodded and closed his eyes.

"Get some rest, Harry," Hermione whispered.

Hermione put the towel aside and stayed put beside him, running her fingers through her hair and humming a soft lullaby that her mother used to hum when she was younger.

The stars outside winked at her. Crookshanks leapt up to the bed and curled up beside Harry. Hedwig was perched by the window, staring at Harry, watching over him. She had been silent during the entire ordeal of Hermione healing Harry's injuries. It seemed as though the owl trusted Hermione enough in order to not make a fuss.

She wiped her tears from her cheeks and tried to compose herself.

Then suddenly, a darker owl swooped into her room and landed on her nightstand. Hermione got up and slowly approached it, then untied the letter from its ankle.

Nervously uncurling the paper, she saw four words written in a familiar, slanted handwriting:

_Is he with you?_

It was from Dumbledore. Hermione looked back at Harry, who was now asleep. Of course, the Order had eyes on Number Four, and they'd be full of questions. Why hadn't she thought of that before?

She scribbled back a "_Yes_", and then tied it back on that same owl's foot, and let it fly back into the night. She remembered that she'd asked Dumbledore, their secret keeper, to tell Harry her address, just in case.

Hermione sat back down beside Harry, knowing that she would not get any sleep tonight. She hadn't had a proper night's rest in weeks, ever since Sirius died. She looked at Harry and wondered if this was the first time he'd actually fallen asleep that quickly since losing his godfather.

She thought of the pieces of glass embedded in his chest, and she wondered what else the Dursleys had done to him that he never let on. Harry didn't really talk about his only living family members; he only mentioned that he hated their company, and that ever since Hogwarts became his true home, his summers were the darker sides of the last few years of his life. But the details were missing. Hermione always wondered, but she never really asked, partially because she knew that Harry wouldn't tell her the truth, and partially because she almost didn't want to know exactly what was going on behind closed doors.

It would be ignorant of her to act like Harry wasn't neglected as a child. How Dumbledore let him live under their roof for so long, Hermione would never fully understand. She remembered how malnourished he was when she first met him. As he was approaching the age of sixteen, he was filling out more, but she would never forget the way he was too fragile and too unhealthy for an eleven-year-old boy.

The speakers downstairs were playing a woman's soft voice singing about how she was unloved by her best friend. It reminded her of her parents, and suddenly a whole list of problems revealed itself in her mind. Hermione hugged her knees and wondered if her mother would sneak upstairs and demand an explanation for Hermione's leaving the party. Perhaps her presence of a few hours had been long enough. Or maybe it wasn't, and Jane just couldn't find an excuse to run up and ridicule her daughter. Whatever happened, Hermione would meet it when it came. Any arguments with her mother would be worth it, because with her, Harry was happy, and he was safe. She Fidelius Charm protected the Granger's house, amongst several other charms that the Order had put into place when Hermione returned home for the holiday. It had annoyed her parents deeply, and they blamed it again on Harry, but when it boiled down to it, it was for their own safety.

Hermione didn't even know how she would explain Harry's presence. Perhaps she would just keep him a secret until she figured out how to introduce him. She knew that her parents would not stand for it at all, and they would kick him out, if they knew that Harry was within their house.

Maybe the Order would take Harry away before Hermione would have the chance to tell her parents about his being there. And of course, the Order would talk of Voldemort, and Death Eaters, and their rising threat, and Harry's chance to just have a peaceful summer would be snagged away within moments.

Didn't Harry deserve a little normalcy?

Hermione looked back at his sleeping figure. What her parents didn't know wouldn't hurt them. For now, at least. She needed to figure out what the Order was planning first, since they apparently so desperately wanted to run Harry's life for him.

Most importantly, above all, she would need to know what Harry wanted from all of this. When he woke up, she would let him choose, if the Order would even allow him to sleep. Maybe they were already on their way here.

Hermione didn't have to wait long for a response from Dumbledore. The owl returned, and Hedwig stared at it as though it were a huge introducer of her personal space. She turned around to face the sky through Hermione's window instead. Hermione uncurled this note and read it quickly.

_Make sure he does not leave the property._

Hermione wrote back a quick, "_Okay_", wondering what would happen next.

She took a seat in her little armchair that her parents had bought her when she was ten, a year before her life made a drastic change. She could still fit in the chair, and even though her mother said it didn't fit the rest of the room, Hermione insisted on keeping it. It smelled like home. Her parents also wanted to get rid of her scarlet and gold bedsheets that they'd gotten for her when she returned after her first year at Hogwarts, but Hermione said that she'd sleep on the floor if they took them away. She wasn't typically the one to make bold statements in front of her parents, but to get rid of the only thing in plain sight referring to Gryffindor with in her room seemed like blasphemy to her.

Hogwarts was her home.

Just then, a knock sounded on her door.

"Hermione!" her mother's voice hissed from the other side.

Hermione's heart raced. She looked over at Harry, who was sound asleep.

"Coming," Hermione said. She raced to the door, unlocked it, and opened it just enough so that Jane would see only her face. "Yes?"

Her mother was frowning.

"Hermione, why did you leave so early?" Jane asked. Hermione could smell wine lingering on her mother's breath. "And why is the door locked?"

"I had a headache," Hermione replied, keeping the door right where it was, making sure that a breeze didn't knock it open and reveal the fact that she was harboring Harry Potter. "And I locked the door because I didn't want any guests walking in, thinking it was the bathroom."

"Another headache?" Jane said, sounding more annoyed than worried. "Anne said that you looked odd when she saw you leave to go to your room. Sweetie, are you just using that headache as an excuse to leave early?"

"No."

"Hermione —"

"Honestly, Mum, I just wasn't feeling too well. I was at the party for three hours, and I met plenty of your friends," Hermione said, trying to force a small smile.

Jane stared at her daughter, trying to see past her lies. Years of breaking the rules, however, had taught Hermione how to put on a mask before her parents. She knew that her mother would be horrified if she knew half of the rules Hermione had broken at Hogwarts… all of them, really, were for Harry's sake, which she knew would even infuriate her mother more.

"Well, alright," Jane said, sounding exhausted from the night's events. "I think you'll need to make an appearance at the next one, to make up for lost time, alright?"

Not wishing to argue, and only thinking of Harry sleeping behind her, Hermione nodded. "Sure," she agreed.

Jane kissed her daughter on the cheek and bade her good night, then twisted around to return to the dinner party. Hermione closed to door, locked it again, and leaned against it. She let out a sigh of relief. Harry was still sleeping. His quiet snores slowly filled the room and Hermione smiled.

Another note came to her about twenty minutes later, when she was lying down on the floor in a sleeping bag she'd scavenged from her closet.

The dark owl flew to her side and stretched out its leg, offering another note that was tied to it. She wondered how exhausted it was, and she got a cup of water from her bathroom for it to drink from as unfolded and read the note:

_He may stay with you for now. Keep him safe._

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Sorry if it was a little short. Thanks for reading :) Things will pick up more in the next chapter.


	3. What's Mine is Yours

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the reviews and alerts from the last chapter! And oh crap, did I ever tell you guys that I'm an author on Portkey too? I think I forgot. They finally accepted my author application months ago (I got rejected twice lololol) but now every time I try to upload stuff there are like symbols all over the text and I fail at fixing those things. If anyone can help me with that please let me know, I honestly don't know what the hell I'm doing. But yeah, the first chapter of The Librarian is on there, and the second one will be uploaded when I can figure out how to upload it as an html without screwing up everything. So if you see my stories there, no one's plagiarizing them, not like anyone would, I mean if you're going to plagiarize a story, plagiarize a good one at least, like Vox Corporis, or any chemprof or robst story, or some shit like that.

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><p><span>A Dangerous Boy<span>

_Chapter Three: What's Mine is Yours_

Harry woke up, shaking.

There were too many nights filled with nightmares, where he relived Sirius's death over and over. Sometimes he saw various other scenes from when he'd went to the Department of Mysteries, like when he saw Hermione, silent and motionless on the floor after Dolohov's curse….

"Harry?" a soft voice whispered into his ear.

Harry reached out into the darkness. Hermione. She was here; for a moment he had forgotten where he was. But she was right beside him.

"Hermione," he replied, not sure of what else to say other than her name. She gently wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tried to calm him down. Cold sweat was breaking out on his forehead.

"Shh," she murmured. Her soft fingers brushed his hair away from his face. "It's okay, Harry."

He closed his eyes and tried to relax. He tried to get rid of the images that were raging about in his head; images that wouldn't stop taunting him, that wouldn't cease to burn themselves into his memory forever… he'd never forget seeing Sirius die… when would it all stop?

"It's okay," she repeated, even though they both knew that it wasn't.

Harry, in a childish sort of way, almost wanted to cry. He didn't want to relive his darker days through even darker nights.

Hermione remained there, long after he had stopped shaking. His breaths slowed down. He could smell her perfume; it smelled like home. She made sure that he laid back down on her bed. When she leaned over to see how he was doing, little curls fell down and tickled his face.

Harry just stared at her. He didn't know what to say. He almost wanted to hold onto her, as though falling asleep with her right beside him would ensure that the nightmares wouldn't come back… as though her presence could somehow shield him and provide him with a proper night's rest.

But she just smiled at him.

"Are you alright?" she whispered, reaching down to squeeze his hand.

Harry just nodded.

And then her moonlit face was gone.

There were no more nightmares, but there was a lot of tossing and turning, and trying to fall asleep. Harry finally decided to just stay awake when he saw that the sun had begin to rise and Hermione's backyard engulfed by one huge shadow.

When he didn't immediately see Hermione, he quickly sat up from the her bed — almost too quickly, since the healed wounds were still sensitive. He looked around anxiously and then saw her lying down in a sleeping bag on the floor. At first, he felt a rush of relief; and then he felt guilty. She should've slept in her own bed. Harry would've stayed on the floor.

Hedwig was asleep, since the day was beginning. Crookshanks was lying next to him, watching him with those big eyes. He remembered that Crookshanks never really liked Ron, but he seemed to like Harry.

Hermione's hair, which looked like it had been curled, was spread over her face. Even in her sleep, Hermione looked organized and proper. She lay on her side, her hands folded underneath her cheek, her lips slightly parted.

Harry's stomach grumbled but he didn't dare venture off into the rest of her house uninvited. He could wait until she woke up. The least he could do was let her sleep; from the bags under her eyes, it looked like she really needed it. And besides, he'd woken her up last night without meaning to.

He could not thank her enough for letting him stay here. He knew his risks of leaving the Dursleys, risks that he hadn't revealed to Hermione yet, but he had returned there, at least, hadn't he? And Harry wasn't ready to put up with the Dursleys' treatment of him for much longer — his last huge argument with Uncle Vernon had gone too far, leaving glass embedded in his chest, and the first person he thought of running to was Hermione. What she'd done for him, how she had, without a doubt, let him into her home and helped him was something he was too grateful for to even put into words. What she had done for him their entire fifth year, in fact, was indescribable. He'd never properly thanked her, but how could he? How could he possibly express that sort of gratitude for someone?

Harry turned and saw Hedwig's cage and his school trunk, which they'd originally abandoned on her patio in order to get Harry here faster. Hermione must have returned downstairs and retrieved them when he was sleeping. He wondered about the blood trail he'd left over her house, and he felt another rush of guilt hitting him. Maybe Hermione had already taken care of it, and that might've made him feel even worse.

After looking out the window and, with Crookshanks, watching the sky brighten up as time carried on for what seemed like an hour, Harry heard a shuffling noise behind him. He turned slowly to see Hermione stretching her arms and gradually opening her eyes to the fresh day.

"Good morning," Harry said softly.

"Morning," she replied in a sleepy voice. She sat up and brushed her hair away from her face. There were smears of left over makeup on her cheeks, but she didn't seem to care. She walked up to him and put her palm on his forehead. "How'd you sleep?"

He shrugged. She purposely wasn't mentioning his nightmare. "Alright. You?"

Hermione smiled sadly. "Same."

She shakily stood up, smoothing out her wrinkled dress, and approached her dresser to get new clothes. "I'll be right back," she called over her shoulder, before closing the her bathroom door.

Harry heard a shower head running. Even though he'd never stepped foot into her house before this, to be here with Hermione somehow felt completely natural, as though he already lived here.

He looked down at her bedspread and saw blood leftover from his injuries. He wasn't sure how to wash that out without magic, and he felt really bad about ruining the comforter. It was a nice layout of gold and scarlet, clearly representing her Gryffindor pride. There was nothing else in the room, though, that hinted at her being a Hogwarts student. Harry wondered if her parents made it that way, or if Hermione wanted to live somewhat of a normal life over the summer holidays — a normal life that she couldn't have because of her being friends with Harry.

The water stopped, and a few minutes later Hermione emerged in new, Hermione-ish clothing, a fresh face, and damp hair. She held her bloodied dress in her hands, then dumped it into her hamper.

"Sorry that I ruined your pretty dress," Harry mumbled.

Hermione smiled.

"Don't worry about it. I can clean that up later," she said.

Feeling guiltier by the minute, Harry grabbed some clothes from his trunk and asked if he could use the shower, too, and she replied with, "Of course, what's mine is yours."

It was nice to wash off the hatred of the Dursleys. Harry could stand in the shower for days, getting rid of any trace of those damn people. The steam of the warm water refreshed his face, and he closed his eyes.

When he came back, Harry awkwardly stood there with his bloodied clothes, not sure where to put them. Hermione pointed to her hamper, insisting that she did her own laundry and that her parents wouldn't notice it.

"But aren't you going to introduce me to your parents?" Harry asked, placing the clothes in the hamper. He looked over at the nightstand and saw a plate of food ready for him that Hermione must've gotten while he was showering. "And — and what about the blood left over the corridor and the patio?"

"I took care of the blood when you went to sleep. I borrowed your Invisibility Cloak, I hope you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind. I could've cleaned it up myself, you could've woken me up to do it," Harry insisted.

She shook her head. Hermione took a bite of a blueberry muffin that sat on a plate in front of her. She was sitting on the floor. Harry grabbed his own plate and joined her.

"What about your parents, though?" he said, returning back to the subject at hand. "Won't you introduce me?"

"I think that we should just get you settled here before we do that," she said.

"But — why? They do know who I am, right?" Harry had a sudden thought: What if Hermione never told them about Harry? If that was the case, then this would be awkward to explain. "Mmm, this is delicious," he added, taking a bite out of his toast.

"Oh, no, they know exactly who you are," Hermione said. She paused, not meeting his eyes. "And I think that's the problem."

Harry stared at her. "What do you mean?"

Hermione put her plate down on the floor in front of her. "Well, I don't want to offend you or anything, but, er, my parents aren't too fond of you, to be completely honest with you."

Harry paused to think. They'd never met him before… how could they not like him? They didn't even give him a chance.

"I mean, just think about it," Hermione said hastily, seeing the expression on his face. "I — I've risked a lot, you know, from being friends with you, and my parents just see you as a little bit… er… _dangerous_."

He thought about it. He supposed he couldn't blame them. "I never meant for you to risk anything, or to get hurt," Harry said quietly. "I didn't intend for all of this to happen to me. If I could live a normal life, I would, in a heartbeat —"

"I know that, Harry," Hermione said quickly. "I just think… I think that this past year was what really sent them off the edge, with our going to the Department of Mysteries. Professor McGonagall sent them a letter explaining what had happened, even though I wasn't going to tell them. They were furious."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, staring at the ground. He couldn't meet Hermione's gaze. "I never wanted that to happen, I swear. I didn't want anyone to go with me, I wanted to try to — to try to save him on m-my own."

Hermione nodded. "I know," she said with an understanding look on her face. "But I would've helped you all over again." She paused. "If I was about to run off the Department of Mysteries on my own, and had no intention of stopping, you'd join me, wouldn't you?"

He couldn't imagine Hermione going on a dangerous mission without him by her side, trying to talk her out of it or being prepared to be fiercely protective of her…

"Of course I would," he said immediately.

"They just don't understand," she whispered, shaking her head and eating more breakfast.

Harry was wondering if this meant she was choosing her loyalty to Harry over her loyalty to her parents.

There was a slight pause between them, and then Harry said, "I do feel bad, though, staying here and their not knowing about it."

"I'll introduce you eventually," Hermione said briskly. "I just want to wait until it's a right time to do so. I'll have to warm them up to tolerating you before you see them."

"You've never really talked about them before," he noted.

Harry was nearly finished with his breakfast already; he'd been starving. His last meal was yesterday morning, as Uncle Vernon had refused to feed him as a form of punishment for Harry's talking back to his aunt. Things had just escalated from there, and here he was, eating breakfast with Hermione on the floor of her bedroom. This was more peaceful and more normal than anything he'd ever experienced at Privet Drive.

"I didn't see the need to discuss them at length," she said matter-of-factly. "There isn't much to be said."

"But they're still your parents, Hermione. I've known you for five years and I don't even know their names."

"Carl and Jane Granger," she said simply. "Now you know."

Hermione finished the blueberry muffin in silence, and Harry took that as a sign to stop talking about them. He wasn't sure if he expected Hermione to have a perfect family; he'd just always assumed that any family other than the one he was stuck with must have been fantastic. It turned out that that wasn't always the case.

Suddenly, a thought struck him.

"Has the Order sent an owl?" Harry asked after a few silent minutes. There was no doubt that they were probably searching for him, if they knew that he had even left.

"After you fell asleep, Dumbledore sent a couple of notes, the first asking me if you were here," she replied. "And in the second note, he just told me to keep you here for the time being. He didn't go into detail, you know, in case the note got intercepted. The Order must've known that you'd left because someone watching over the house could have seen the Knight Bus."

Harry nodded. "They're not mad?"

"Why should they be?" Hermione asked him, her eyes wide with curiosity. "It's barbaric that anyone ever made you live with the Dursleys in the first place."

He looked down at the floor again. Dumbledore had told him a lot after Sirius's death… things that Harry had yet to tell Ron and Hermione. Things that explained why he had to stay with the Dursleys at least once a year, the old magic that protected that house.

Harry supposed he could reveal that to Hermione. But what he didn't know how to explain was that according the prophecy, it had to be one of them: one must live while the other survives. Harry felt as though he knew this all along… he'd been marked since the day his parents died. He wasn't sure how to explain this to his two best friends, though, who had not grown up with lightning scars on their foreheads.

"There's a reason for that," Harry said, finishing up his breakfast and putting the plate down in front of him.

"For what?"

"For my staying there."

Hermione stared at him. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice almost shaking.

"Well, my mum died to save me. She sacrificed herself," Harry began.

Hermione nodded. He could see the gears working in her mind already. She loved solving things like this; it was the one streak of her personality that outdid every other aspect of her… except for her loyalty, of course.

"By doing this, I was protected," Harry said, wondering how to word it all. "My aunt is her blood. I'm protected in their house."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Of course," she said. "That's… oh my, that must be ancient magic. I suppose that Voldemort would overlook something like that, something so _simple_…."

Harry still couldn't get over the fact that she said Voldemort's name aloud. He remembered her saying it for the first time when she was trying to calm him down and convince him to start Dumbledore's Army.

"But still," Hermione went on, "it just — it just really upsets me that they treated you like that. I understand that it was for your protection, but I don't grasp how they could be so _nasty_ and inhumane like that, and I don't even know half the story."

Harry felt a little uncomfortable. He had never mentioned the cupboard, the one thing that really labeled their extreme neglect of him. He found no purpose in bringing it up in conversation, and how would one go about introducing that? "Oh, by the way, Hermione, they kept me in a cupboard until I was eleven years old"?

"You're better off not knowing," Harry muttered.

"Oh, Harry," she said quietly. Harry thought he saw her eyes watering, so he picked up their plates, stood up, and set them on her nightstand. When he turned back around she was wiping her eyes and trying to compose herself again.

"Well," she went on, "at least we know that you're protected there… but are you alright here?"

"I suppose if Dumbledore thinks it's alright, then I should stay," Harry said. "If you're okay with that, I mean."

She nodded. "Of course I'm okay with it," she said, almost laughing.

Suddenly, a voice from downstairs called out, "Hermione!"

Hermione sighed. "That'll be mum," she said in a low voice. "I'll be right back."

Harry nodded, and Hermione stood up and left the room.

. . .

Hermione walked down the staircase that led into the Grangers' kitchen. Jane was standing at the island, her fingers impatiently tapping the fine marble.

"Good morning," she said briskly.

"Morning."

Hermione approached the other end of the island and saw that look in her mother's eyes that always made her nervous. Did she know that Harry was here? No, she couldn't have… Hermione had locked her bedroom door last night to prevent anyone else from coming in while she was sleeping.

"Your father and I have had a little chat," Jane said. "Now, I understand your headaches and all, and you did stay at the party for a few hours, but I'm still not pleased with how you did not at least make a formal farewell. It was a bit rude, to be honest. You can't just send a message with a servant —"

"Anne's not a servant."

"With Anne," Jane corrected stiffly, "and expect everything to be alright."

"I'm sorry," Hermione muttered. "The headache just become unbearable at one point, and I really needed rest."

Jane shook her head and pursed her lips. "It doesn't make it any less rude, Hermione. A few people were asking about you."

Hermione sighed. She hated pretending to be someone she wasn't for her parents' sake. Couldn't they be happy with the daughter they had?

"As I told you last night, you are going to attend the next party, without question," Jane continued. "And I'd like you to not leave for any reason, despite your headaches."

Hermione just nodded. There was a slight pause, and then Jane said, "What are the headaches from, anyway?"

She shrugged. "Dunno."

"Are you worrying too much? You never worry too much about school work — I know you're so dedicated to it —" For once, Jane had a smile on her face. "But — I mean, what else could you be worrying about?" She paused. "Is it that Potter boy?"

Hermione's heart pounded so loudly that she was surprised her mother did not hear it. She shook her head immediately and squeaked, "No."

"I swear, if he's making you have these headaches — and the damage that that curse did to you! He's too dangerous." Jane folded her arms across her chest.

The curse Dolohov had given Hermione left an aching pain in her chest that was still there… it was easy to ignore now, but there was still a dull pain that remained as proof of what Hermione had done for Harry.

"It's not that, Mum, I promise," Hermione insisted.

"Still… who knows if that curse has done permanent damage? You may never be the same again, Hermione," Jane commented. "I don't want you hanging out with him any longer."

"You can't do that —" Hermione interrupted.

"Can't what? I can't tell you what to do? I am your mother, Hermione," Jane said.

"Harry's my best friend, he means a lot to me —"

"And your safety means a lot to _me_," her mother retorted. "He's too dangerous! You have to choose, Hermione."

Hermione was shaking at this point. "Choose?"

"You can't be loyal to your parents and also be loyal to a boy who doesn't care about your safety," Jane announced. "Your father and I have talked about it, and we have had it with what he's doing to you. Now, if what you say about this Volde—something is true, and he really is back, and that Potter boy is his number one enemy, then you need to get away from him."

Jane put her hands on her hips and stared at her daughter, waiting for a response.

"I'm not choosing between my parents and Harry. That's not fair. I love all of you," Hermione said softly.

She felt tears burning in her eyes. She turned around and walked back upstairs to her room, trying to wipe her eyes before she got back to see Harry, the boy that she, perhaps, was choosing over her parents.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I was totally kidding about the plagiarizing thing, by the way, for the one person out there who still takes me seriously.


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